Dancing With The Devil's Victim
by Orpheus Thanatos Messiah
Summary: Two souls, one an aloof lord with a hidden past and the other a regal countess wanting freedom from her lifestyle. Will she help him or will the Devil's Trill make her succomb to the end of all mortals? One-shot


_**Chapter 1**_

The night was bright and the music lively as people galore danced and weaved with their partners. The sound of laughter and the quiet whisper of gowns treading across the ground were underscored by the orchestra who played several tunes infused the dancers with energy.

Everyone was dancing; everyone, that is, except a tall, young woman standing to the side. She had short, black hair that reached just past her ears and bright lavender eyes that seemed to shine with an inner light. She brushed a pale hand across her face to move any stray hair that was in her eyes and glared at the dress she was in: It was in a horrendously bright pink color and did not fit her at all, but did her mother ever listen? Oh no; if you didn't match with society, she forced you to match, whether you wanted to or not.

"Sam, you need to dance," a voice to her side announced. Looking to her side, Samantha Manson, or Sam as she went by her friends, gazed at her childhood friend and confidant, Valerie Grey, one of the few free African-Americans at the dance party. She had long black hair that reached mid-back and chocolate brown eyes that never seemed to settle in one area for too long.

That was understandable; she was a warrior by nature and so, going by her nature, had joined the military as one of the first female officers and had shown each and every person who had denied her access just how much she could accomplish.

The thing that really made Sam fume in silent fury, that really made her want to scream in anger was the fact that _her_ gown wasn't pink or yellow or any of those bright colors. No, she was dressed in earth tones, because they matched the color of her skin and eyes. But she couldn't take her fury out on her friend for being presentable. It wasn't her fault that Sam didn't like mixing with a lot of people.

But that was neither here nor there and Valerie was still waiting for an answer. "I know that, Val," she sighed, resorting to the nickname she gave her friend. It never failed to make her roll her eyes and smile at her friend's rather childish use of an out of date name. "The only problem is that I haven't met anyone willing or interesting enough to dance with."

Valerie growled low in her throat and snarled out in exasperation, "You need to stop being so picky or else your mother is going to marry you off to an oaf like Dash Baxter."

Sam grimaced and shuddered as her friend repeated to her something she already knew. Her mother was already pressing her to marry and she was only seventeen. Sure, she knew she was a lot older than most girls were when they married off, but she wanted to wait and meet that one person who made her heart shudder in expectation, that made it grow with love. She wanted a man who could love her for what she was and not what she represented. The only problem was that she was the daughter of one of the richest families in all of Britain.

Valerie sighed as she watched her friend and said sadly, "Sam, I worry about you, you know that, right?" When Sam nodded, she continued. "Then why don't you just go out there and try to meet a nice guy. I just want someone to watch out for you."

That last statement nearly sent Sam into a frenzy and Valerie grimaced as she realized what she had said. If there was anything that Sam was, it was fiercely protective of her individuality, an uncommon thing in women in this day and age. As she tried to hurriedly apologize for what she had said, Sam turned around and said over her shoulder, "Don't apologize, Val. I know you meant well and all, but I can't forgive you right now in my temperament. If you see my mother, tell her I left for home." With that, she marched out of the room and ran smack-dab into someone's chest.

With a grunt of surprise, the person in front of her steadied her before she fell and asked her in a voice that sent shivers of some kind down her spine, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes; I'm fine, thank you. I am so sorry to have," she glanced up and saw piercing blue eyes and finished stuttering out, "r-run in-into you." She gulped and had to keep a blush from growing across her face as she studied the man in front of her.

He stood in front of her, tall and straight in his masculine pride. She realized with a bit of peevishness that he was taller than she was and yet, some part of her trilled about that as he looked down at her with his aloof blue eyes, his long black hair falling in front of his face in a juvenile sort of way. He wore the usual sort of black suit, white under-shirt and tie, and yet, on him, it seemed to hide his real self than anything else and she was itching to find out what he kept hidden behind that aloof demeanor.

He cleared his throat politely and she blushed when she realized she'd been staring a little longer than propriety deemed necessary. She curtsied, thanking her etiquette instructor with a lot more gratitude than she'd ever tell the old prune, and apologized again, causing him to laugh lightly and reply, "Don't worry. I get the odd stare every now and then. I just got here and…I don't think I know you, young maiden. Shall I guess your name or will you be polite and tell me?" He asked, amusement sending one of his eyebrows nearly into his hairline.

She glared and straightened to her full height, bringing her only to his smooth, beardless chin, and stated with authority, "I am Samantha Manson, daughter to Countess Pamela Manson and the late Count William Manson. Who, my good sir, are you?"

The man raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and smiled in a soothing way that never reached his eyes. "Pardon my rudeness, my lady countess. My name is Lord Daniel Fenton, the son of the late Lord Jack Fenton and Lady Madeline Fenton, adopted heir to Lord Vladimir Masters."

Her eyes widened and her mind whirled at the names he had just given her. For some reason, though, she couldn't remember where she had heard of him before and before she could think of anything to say, he moved past her with an "Excuse me," and joined in the dance crowd, bringing her back to the attention of her friend Valerie, who had followed after her.

"Sam?" She asked, worry in her voice. "Are you okay?"

Sam nodded dumbly and said, "I think I just found the one."

Valerie's eyes widened and she paled noticeably. "What? What is it?" Sam asked worried about her friend's reaction.

"Are you telling me that the one who you think is meant for you is Lord Daniel?" When Sam nodded in confusion, Valerie groaned and told her, "Look, let me give you some information on him. That man is different. Not your kind of different," she added when Sam snorted, "but different in ways that surpass all known human boundaries. He's filthy rich, far richer than you and he's connected to every political leader in Britain. Only thing is, he's private. Private to a dangerous degree. No one really knows if those are his real parents or if he just made them up so that people would give him sympathy. He's a complete enigma and did I forget to mention the fact that he's dangerous?"

Sam rolled her eyes and said sarcastically, "You failed to mention that."

"Well, he is," she stated, picking up where she left off. "Anyone who tails him is never seen again, or, if they are seen, they're too far into the depths of insanity to give anyone any helpful hints. It's said he's trained in every type of weapon out there and he's mastered every form of martial arts, ranging from hand-to-hand to fencing and beyond."

"So not a man to take lightly," Sam muttered to herself, her gaze following Lord Daniel as he weaved through the crowd, eventually stopping in front of another African-American guest, this time with short black hair and spectacles resting on the bridge of his nose. They seemed to be talking and arguing among themselves in low voices and the spectacled man glanced in her direction and turned it back onto Lord Daniel.

"Hey, who's that person Lord Daniel is talking to?" Sam asked.

Valerie looked and stated matter-of-factly, "Count Tucker Foley. Said to be the smartest man alive, even though he's black." She shrugged and added, "He's close friend's with Lord Daniel; also said to be the only person he's ever let close enough to know him personally. But, I'll admit it; all I've said is hear-say. I don't actually _know_ if it's true or not."

This, Sam wagered, really grated on her friend's limited nerves. Valerie was the type of person who had to know everything to be able to function properly. She gathered up her skirt and, telling Valerie, "I'm going to ask him to dance," moved through the crowd to Lord Daniel's side.

When she was close, she heard their conversation. "…you know she isn't meant for you, Danny! Don't drag in anyone who doesn't belong."

"Just like you don't really belong?" Lord Daniel countered.

Count Tucker grimaced, yet continued. "I'm different than most and you know it, just like I know that you're-"

Lord Daniel simply raised his hand, that was all, yet it was enough to stop Count Tucker mid-rant as he turned to her and said, "Ah, Countess Samantha. To what do I have the honor of a repeated visit from you?"

Sam chuckled and replied, "You are being asked if you would dance with one such as I. Do you consider that an honor?"

"More honor than you could know," he said under his breathe, obviously not wanting her to hear it. She did anyways; she had excellent hearing, but didn't deign it with a response. Taking his proffered hand in her own, she led him out onto the dance floor just in time for the orchestra to play "The Magic Waltz", a favorite dance of hers.

Moving with the music, twirling and weaving and sashaying this way and that, people stopped to stare at the couple. They moved together as one being, one whole divided into two. As the two danced, they talked.

"Have you ever heard of the piece, 'The Devil's Trill'?" He asked her.

"No, I don't think so. What is it?" She asked curiously, stilling moving constantly.

"A maestro violinist's worst nightmare," he replied, causing her to laugh at his rather frank and dour tone. "No, it's true. The whole piece is so complex that only people who have studied the violin for countless years could achieve the acclaim it comes with. See, there is also a legend behind it: 'One day, a master violinist was sleeping and in his dreams, he was visited by the Devil. The Devil told him, "I can make you the most beautiful song that has ever graced mortal ears."

"'The man, knowing something's of devils and the like, asked it, "What do I give you in return?" The Devil replied, 'All I ask for in return is your soul.' So the man, thinking that it was only a dream, agreed and when he awoke, in front of him was the piece. He soon died after that, but left behind multiple copies of 'The Devil's Trill' for generations to come to attempt.'"

Sam blinked and said, "Wow. What an impressive story. It makes hearing that piece all the more desirable."

Lord Daniel grinned and spun her to the tempo and asked her, "Would you like to hear me play it for you?"

Sam stared at him and asked incredulously, "You can play the violin?"

Lord Daniel nodded and stated, "For several years, in fact. I'm a do everything kind of man, you understand."

So that part of Valerie's assessment was correct, Sam thought to herself. She'd be pleased to hear that.

When the dance ended, he bowed over her hand and asked her, "Would you mind being my eternal dance partner tonight?"

Sam chuckled lightly at his choice of words and said, "For tonight only. Otherwise, I'd get really sore feet."

Laughing, he spun her into the next dance and that was how the rest of the night passed, she, falling more in love, he, moving with her and the music and the both of them just enjoying the other's company.

As the clock struck one, Sam decided that she'd had enough and said, "I really enjoyed dancing with you, my lord, but I'm so tired. I really must seek out my bed."

Proffering his arm to her, he replied, "No, no. It is no trouble. Here, let me escort you to the door at least."

When they were outside, she called for her carriage to be readied and was about to say something to Lord Daniel when she noticed that his hair had changed color. Instead of its pitch blackness that she'd gotten used to over the night, it had changed to the white of bone and his eyes seemed to glow in the light of the moon. His eyes also seemed to have changed to a more sea-green color that intrigued her to no end.

When her carriage rode into the courtyard, she said good night to him and entered its compartment. Glancing back out the window, she saw him staring after her, his hair back to black as the moon became shrouded in shadows.

_I may have enjoyed the dance_, she thought to herself as she settled back into her seat, _but my dance partner just left me curious. _

Who precisely _was _Lord Daniel Fenton?


End file.
